Incarnation
by Krista Perry
Summary: While on a mission, Heero observes as Duo pays deadly tribute to an aspect of Shinigami.


Incarnation

By Krista Perry

* * *

><p>Duo dressed in red for the mission. Everything he wore was dark, deep red, from his velvet vest and tailed coat, to his trim slacks, to his silk shirt with the fall of lace at his throat and cuffs, right down to the ribbon that tied off the end of his braid.<p>

Everything red... except the stark bone-white ivory mask that covered the upper part of his face.

When he first showed me his getup, I frowned. "That's a disguise?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "_Costume_, Heero. The party is a masquerade."

Hardly comforting. "I can see your braid, your eyes... Anyone familiar with your wanted posters - which includes most of the guest list - will recognize you in a second."

"Maybe," he said, "but anyone who might recognize me also knows that I'm just a poor L2 street rat - one who's only known starvation and disease and war. I'm the last person they'd expect to be able to infiltrate high society." He flashed his signature lopsided grin, but his eyes were hard, and glinting like chips of ice behind the bone mask. "Trust me, Heero. There are times to skulk in shadows, and times when the best hiding place is right in plain sight. This fancy OZ shindig definitely qualifies as the latter."

I snorted. "Where did you learn *that* little nugget of espionage wisdom?"

"Edgar Allen Poe," he said with a wink, as he began to practice palming his knives.

I watched his hands like a hawk, but he was so quick, the knives seemed to just appear and disappear into thin air. Best pickpocket in all of L2, he had once boasted. Watching sharp steel seemingly vanish between his fingers, I believed him.

"Edgar who?" I asked.

He laughed. "I _knew_ you hacked your American Lit grade. Edgar Allen Poe wrote The Purloined Letter... among other things. Look it up, genius."

So I did.

If nothing else, reading Poe gave me insight into Duo's unique flair for the dramatic; not to mention his biting, dark sense of humor.

Especially now, as I holstered my .45 and stepped over the fallen bodies of the seven soldiers unfortunate enough to get stuck with security room detail, while the rest of the aristocratic military-bent-on-world-domination indulged in music and dance and drink in the Romerfeller Estate Ballroom, two floors below. The 60 vid screens, one for each discreetly positioned security camera recording the event, spread out in the room before me, showing the party in all its colorful decadence.

I spotted the target first. True to our sources, he was dressed (unsurprisingly) as a king; draped in richly embroidered royal purple, wearing a jewel-encrusted gold crown. He was surrounded by a motley crew, each sporting strange and outlandish costumes and masks, some bordering on the grotesque, all seeking his attention. The target, however, was absorbed in conversing with a masked woman who was decked out in flowing green and silver, with sparkling gossamer fairy wings sprouting from her back.

Then, scanning the rest of the masquerading aristocracy, I saw Duo.

Clothed in the color of fresh spilled blood, he moved among them like he belonged, chatting with strangers as if they were old friends, pretending to sip at his champaign, and rubbing elbows with the best of them. If anyone spared him a second glance, it was never with suspicion or animosity.

There was something to hiding in plain sight after all, it seemed.

"I'm in position," I said.

Duo's mouth didn't move as his sub-vocalized response came through my earpiece. "Just in time," he said, and I heard the first strains of violins playing something that sounded like Mozart.

As the music started, everyone watched as the king led his fairy princess to the ballroom floor and began a Viennese Waltz. Everyone else quickly followed suite, pairing up and joining in the dance. Soon the room was a maddening whirl of color and sound.

I watched Duo, as he watched the king. Then he turned to a young woman dressed in a gown adorned with brightly colored peacock feathers, and invited her out on to the dance floor. She went willingly, her smile shining from beneath her glittering mask. Poor thing. She probably had no clue she was dancing with the God of Death tonight.

It occurred to me that I didn't know that Duo could dance; but he could, and quite well. With each quick step and turn, he whirled his partner through the masked throng of dancers. Soon, he was approaching the king. He spun faster and faster; his partner laughed in exhilaration, her cheeks flushing beneath her mask.

Duo moved ever closer to the king... and then in one spinning rush, he passed the king and the fairy consort, and was lost in the crowd once again.

For several long moments, the king kept dancing. And then he staggered. Came to a stop. Looked down at himself, and only then noticed the wash of blood spreading darkly through his purple robes. With a stupefied expression, he collapsed to the floor as his dancing partner let out a piercing scream.

I waited until the scream became contagious, spreading like a plague through the crowd as the masqueraders caught sight of the king lying in a growing pool of scarlet on the marble floor. I used the spare moments to quickly delete the security recordings. Then I reached into my jacket pocket and hit the detonator.

The building rocked with the explosion, and the ballroom plunged into darkness, and utter chaos.

I ran like hell, the sound of terrified screams echoing after me.

Duo was already at the rendezvous point when I got there. His silent presence might have taken me by surprise, but in the dim light of the crescent moon, I could see his pale bone mask hovering like a wraith in the black of night.

"Duo?" My voice was shaking, and I didn't know why.

He reached up and pulled off the mask. His face seemed starkly young and all too human in contrast, but his dark eyes were old. Old, and very, very tired.

"Mission accomplished," I said.

He nodded once. "Yeah," he said. His voice was hoarse, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if he had been screaming.

But then he grinned that lopsided grin that never quite reached the spark in his eyes. "'And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.'"


End file.
